Tragic Fishing Moments 



line floated limply to the surface minus its first six 

 feet. Stunned and with trembling hands I slowly 

 wound in the useless line. My prize was gone. I 

 had been beaten, and that old Monarch of the stumps 

 was free. 



Last year I returned to those waters still carrying 

 that same ambition and yet again departed with that 

 ambition. I intend to go back again this year. 



To the fisherman, however, " Sweet are the uses 

 of (such) adversity," for my ambition still lives to 

 furnish the gossamer thread from which my many 

 day dreams may be spun and to rest and freshen and 

 charm and inspire me with the bliss of its purusit. 



78 



